Wake Up Call
by MothSymphony
Summary: Nezumi and Sion in early youth, school setting. Drabble (fluff), requested. Warning: corporal punishment.


"Nezumi! I really don't think we should be doing this." Sion whispered nervously, his crimson eyes darting left to right anxiously. "Would you slow down? We're going to get in trouble!"  
"Be quiet." Nezumi ordered hastily, clapping a firm hand over the albino's mouth without looking back as he peered cautiously into the narrow window of the laboratory. "I want to see what they're up to. I have a feeling they're hiding something." He shot a reproachful glance over his shoulder as Sion bit his lip nervously, looking ruffled. "Look, if you're too much of a mama's boy to handle a little trouble, then you can run right back to Economics class and stay out of my way, airhead."  
Sion, unfazed and quite accustomed to verbal abuse among these lines, merely expressed a light frown. "Don't leave me!" He exclaimed in soft objection. "You– you don't know your way around the school like I do."  
"Tch!" Nezumi perked up at the masked jibe, straightening sharply. "Shut up," he growled, grabbing a handful of the ivory-haired boy's shirt collar. "The last thing I need is a burden to drag around behind me."  
Sion's mouth dropped open with a retort at the tip of his tongue, but his voice abruptly shattered as Nezumi clamped both hands over his mouth, his eyes slitting. Sion heard them too, his eyes widening in profound horror. Footsteps. They resounded menacingly down the hall, their echoes sending a tremor through Sion's being. The pair were pressed against the corner of the hallway, pinned against the door like two moths against a museum wall. The footsteps halted, causing both boys to subconsciously hold their breath in anticipation, fear stilled in their chests. The footsteps began again, but this time, they grew softer and softer, until they faded altogether. Nezumi's lips curled into a smirk as Sion exhaled shakily. "Lighten up, airhead. I told you I wouldn't get us–"  
Before the smug delinquent could finish, a swift knock from behind sent them skidding forward, Nezumi grabbing Sion's collar before he could hit the ground.  
Rough, calloused fingers encircled their impish earlobes, causing the latter boy to howl in pain, and Nezumi to grit his teeth, struggling violently in the firm grasp, rage ablaze in his shadowy eyes.  
"Well, well, boys!" Ejaculated a deep, cutting voice from above, and Sion tilted his head upwards through the minor pain, recognizing the face of none other than Dr. Edwards, the feared, shady headmaster. "What have we here? Eavesdropping, are we?"  
Neither child responded, though Sion's cheeks tinted a shade of peach and he adverted his eyes, face still slightly contorted in pain. Nezumi had already grown accustomed to the grasp, and his steely, serene facade returned, eyelids slightly lowered, radiating a disinterested disposition. His struggling ceased and he even yawned, regaining his dignity. Though fury and true anger lurked in his stormy grey eyes, Nezumi sure was swift enough to recognize the potential retaliations through further condemning behavior. "Guilty as charged, as I might have guessed." chuckled the man humorlessly. "I must say, I'm disappointed. Especially in you, Sion. You had such potential."  
With long, purposeful strides, the man walked through the hall, dragging the two students after him ruthlessly, both whom gripped at their own ears in vain at the sudden jerking.  
"Please, Mr. Edwards," Sion pleaded, tiny tears beading at the corner of his maroon eyes. "We weren't really; we didn't mean it. We didn't know what we were doing!" The excuse was incredibly flimsy, even to his own ears, but Sion had at least attempted to weave an escape through the tangle of trouble that his older friend had knit so carelessly. Nezumi rolled his eyes wordlessly.  
It only took a few more moments for the two to be thrust into the classroom; the professor abruptly paused in mid-lecture, eyebrows furrowing. "What is this?" He demanded, but upon catching sight of the headmaster at the doorway, he straightened, his tone alternating pleasantly. "Ah! Dr. Edwards! And what do I owe this pleasure?"  
The tall man cleared his throat, not bothering with formal introduction. "These two delinquents were caught red-handed spying on the network authority and attempting to overhear extremely classified information." He smiled grimly, dipping his head. "I expect you to take the most adequate measures, seeing as your wife works at the correctional facility of behavior." The professor recoiled slightly at this, and Nezumi didn't miss the slight flash of fear in his eyes, nor the condescending glint in the headmaster's as they exchanged silent, rigid communication. "You should know the rules well."  
The professor nodded hastily, though he looked rather disturbed. "But of course! They shall be dealt with at once! Such unruly behavior, unbecoming of No.6 students! I apologize for the inconvenience, Doctor."  
The headmaster dipped his head again, his eyes flickering towards the two once more, before he strode from the room, coat swishing behind him.  
Once the door slammed closed, the professor, with hooded eyes, exhaled, retrieving his pointing rod from the digital board, his movements heavy with regret and obligation.  
"All right," he said at last in resignation, jerking his head. "Nezumi, first, I suppose."  
Nezumi folded his arms in defiance, while Sion gazed at the professor in incredulity. "P-Professor?" He inquired shakily. "First for what? You're not really..."  
The professor's eyes hardened at once. It was his either his and his wife's career at stake, or the hides of two meddling children. The decision was painfully obvious, and it was perturbing for the nervous albino to even bother to question it. The man tapped his desk with his rod impatiently. "Come now, Nezumi. I don't have all day. The sooner the better, boy."  
Muffled whispering erupted from the back of the classroom, and nervous, swift glances were exchanged as a murmur of unrest and confusion rippled among the students.  
"Silence!" The professor commanded, sensing the tension at once. "Nezumi, now. Or your small friend will receive the worse end. Is that what you would prefer?"  
Nezumi hesitated at this, and after a moment more, he exhaled in exasperation, shrugging Sion's concerned, cold hands from his shoulder and striding across the room defiantly, chin lifted. He tilted his abdomen against the edge of the desk, and stuffed his hands into his pockets, rolling the tension from his shoulder blades. Before Sion could even process the situation, Nezumi's trousers slid to the creases of his hipbones, and a resounding crack split the silence in half, a gathering hush falling over the whispering students.

Another.

And another.

A series of ruthless blows landed on the dark-haired boy's backside, until after what seemed like a full twenty minutes, Nezumi's breathing became ragged and his steely exterior faltered into a painful grimace. He grunted in pain, a long line of curses streaming from his lips, beneath his breath. The professor, finally satisfied with the reaction, withdrew, rod slowly detaching from the silent boy's welted skin. Immediately, Nezumi whisked his trousers back over his hips, and walked proudly, undeterred, to the edge of the room, leaning against the wall in nonchalance. He spit on the floor.  
"Alright, Sion, you're up next."  
The professor beckoned the smaller boy, trying to ignore the fact that he was already in tears. He had watched the entire process that Nezumi had underwent, and was crying openly; he detested the sight of harm inflicted on Nezumi more than the idea of the harm itself. He smeared his leaking eyes on his elbow sleeve and obediently bent over the desk, gripping the edges of the wooden structure and chewing down on his lip in anticipation. If Nezumi could bear the heavy strokes without more than a flinch and occasional soft cursing, so could he.  
A spiked breeze suddenly ran up his spine, and with his cheeks flaming crimson with heat and embarrassment, Sion hastily attempted to readjust his trousers. The professor snorted humorlessly at the boy's clumsy attempt at modesty, before whisking the clothing back down to the child's ankles and snapping the merciless wood against his pale, freckled skin.  
Upon this first blow, Sion, despite himself, burst into fresh tears. They raced down his cheeks; hot, thick and dripping down his chin. More punishing smacks resounded against the silent classroom, save the sympathetic winces of other students and muffled sniggers of others. Nezumi, after a while, found his grey irises darting to the corners of his eyes to glance at Shion in the slightest of interest and concern, as the boy was now sobbing freely, eyes clenched shut. It had hardly been a few minutes, but his skin was already bruising. The delicacy of the child bewildered Nezumi, and a sudden panic rose in his throat like bile.  
"Hey!" the raven-haired kid stepped forward, feeling the fierce surge of his protective nature embody him. His fists clenched, knuckles white. "That's enough."  
The professor seemed to agree, glancing at the state of the boy's skin with slight, disguised concern. The man straightened, recollecting himself, and carefully replaced the rod on its perch below the board. Sion rose from the foreboding desk shakily, his fingers fumbling shakily over the buttons on his trousers. He was sniffling quietly and smearing the moisture from his face, his steps unbalanced, his stride reduced to a limp. He refused to meet the gaze of anyone, least of all Nezumi, and shuffled back to his desk, visibly wincing as he carefully lowered himself into his seat. Nezumi plopped down beside him, eying him discreetly, though he was careful not to seem too interested. Had the beating really taken such a drastic toll on Sion? Was he really that sheltered, that fragile, as to be shaken by such a infantile punishment? Nezumi exhaled in light exasperation and wonder as Sion stared at his desk, his hand cradling his sore hip. Typical of a pampered little prince from No.6, he thought crudely.  
"Man up, Sion, they're looking at you." He couldn't help but hiss as a few tear drops pooled at the edge of the desk, hooded by the lowered ivory mop of hair. "Sion, where's your pride? What happened to your quick wit and stupid smartass remarks? Get over yourself. That was nothing."  
The boy registered these words and lifted his head, shame and dejection lingering in his eyes. "It _hurt_." He mouthed piteously. Nezumi wanted to scoff, wanted to shake the boy and sock him in the jaw, scream in his face about the cruelties and blackness of the world, that this was heaven on earth compared to daggers against your skin; but instead, the ebony haired child found himself inclined in empathetic sympathy. Sion somehow managed to remind him of a scolded puppy; innocent, confused, and downright betrayed at the concept of being punished for wrongdoings that were not his own. But that was life. The sooner he came to terms with unfairness and consequences such as this, the sooner he would adjust to reality.  
"Welcome to the real world." Nezumi mouthed back, half to himself, turning to face forward. "It's going to be okay."

_Next time_, he thought silently.

_I'll protect you._


End file.
